


So I Can't Smile

by jay_of_the_beholder



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blood, Injury, Pre-Japan Arc, Quarantine mentions, Wounds, Y'all know what kind of fic this is, it's very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_of_the_beholder/pseuds/jay_of_the_beholder
Summary: Dunno this is short. It's the scar fic no one asked for.
Relationships: Alfred "Bosie" Douglas/Oscar Wilde, Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	So I Can't Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno this is short. It's the scar fic no one asked for.

Wilde tries not to cry.

He knows the tears will only make the wound sting more, and so he uses every ounce of his remaining energy to keep from crying. It’s not easy. The wound burns against the rough fabric he’d been given to staunch the blood as they make their way back to the inn.

Zolf doesn’t look at him. It’s part of their agreement; if one of them is in danger of being infected, the other is to have no contact. It’s for their safety, Wilde knows, but it doesn’t change the fact that it  _ hurts. _

Everything hurts. His legs hurt from walking and his wrists hurt from where they were bound. His head hurts, likely from the loss of blood and his fatigue, which likely contributes to his eyes hurting too. The side of his face  _ burns _ in immense pain, but there is no pain greater to Wilde at this moment than the searing hole in his heart.

He tries not to see Bosie when he closes his eyes; the wild look and the blue veins creeping up the side of his neck…

The knife at his face as the man he had loved used his words against him.

They reach the inn and Wilde is put in the cell. He hears the door lock and sits as two pairs of footsteps recede into the hall.

Zolf had stayed.

“Here.”

Wilde hears something being slid through the food door, and looks over to see a simple first aid kit and a damp towel.

“I’ll talk you through cleaning yourself up.”

Wilde nods numbly, picking up the towel and beginning to dab at the stinging wound.

It takes far too long for him to get properly bandaged, Zolf asked if he wanted a mirror to make it easier and he had quickly declined. He doesn’t tend to any smaller wounds, instead simply leaning back against the wall and trying not to move his face.

Zolf attempts to lighten the mood after a bit, and Wilde feels himself fake a smile as he usually does. This time, it burns. He winces and feels tears welling up. Zolf falls silent.

Wilde doesn’t smile again for a long time.


End file.
